is this a table? no, this is a poem

no great feasts of delicacies sweet
are laid upon it
for the body's eager consumption

no melons, no honey, no rich, dark bread
spread thick with golden butter,
no tender roasted essence of beast or fowl,
no fish from the sea or fruit from a tree,
no sweet wines crushed
from the fullness of sun-fed grape
to tempt the taste of jaded gourmand,
or sustain the body of warrior and priest

no, this is not a table
laid out to feed our fleshly needs,
it is a poem, set full with nourishment
for every weary spirit, sustenance spread
wide, with joy for every questing heart

it is a poem, fully-laden for our feasting,
a banquet set out for all who wish to join
a celebration of the richness of our kind

by: Allen Itz